


The Contest

by startraveller776



Category: Labyrinth (1986)
Genre: Comedy, F/M, Hijinks & Shenanigans, Humor, One Shot, Silly
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-18
Updated: 2019-08-18
Packaged: 2020-09-06 15:07:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,924
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20293480
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/startraveller776/pseuds/startraveller776
Summary: What happens when Sarah leaves Jareth alone for a few days before their wedding? Rampant insanity, of course! All for the sake of keeping the Goblin King entertained.





	The Contest

**Author's Note:**

> **IMPORTANT:** This is a repost of an old fic. I have been startraveller776 for over 15 years on various sites, but also have gone by "Misplaced" and "MisplacedMama." If you have doubts, by all means, shoot me an email at misplacedmama @ gmail . com. I'll be happy to chat.

**THE CONTEST**

Jareth lounged in his throne, tapping his boot with his favorite riding crop. One of these days, he ought to get a horse and make real use of it. His lips curled into a smile as he recalled the last time he used the leather crop—involving his nude future queen. Hm, yes. It was quite useful already, wasn’t it?

It took exactly three minutes for Jareth to replay that particular interlude. However, as lovely as the memory was, it was not enough to distract him from the abject boredom he was suffering from. Sarah had gone Aboveground to make her final preparations for the wedding. There was some nonsense about it being bad form for him to lay eyes on her before the ceremony, but after Jareth threatened to stalk her via crystal ball, Sarah agreed to come back home before the big event.

He was in the second day of their three day separation, and he was getting…itchy. It was a familiar inkling, one that could only be assuaged by a good lay or a round of mischief. Sex was, unfortunately, out of the question—under no circumstance was he allowed to pop in on Sarah, announced or otherwise. She had used her I-swear-to-God-if-you-do-I-will-make-your-life-a-living-hell voice when forcing him to promise to stay away. He was not about to risk losing her because he couldn’t keep his libido in check.

But she had never said anything about mischief, had she? A little playfulness wouldn’t hurt anyone—much. Where to begin, though? Jareth surveyed his throne room, full of half-drunken goblins and clucking fowl. He could bog a few of the lazy creatures. He could kick some chickens. Either option seemed intolerably drab. Why did no one wish away a child when he needed something to do? Blasted mortals!

Jareth conjured a crystal, dancing it across his hands a few times. Even that was dull. He considered checking up on Sarah, but really, what could she be doing now that was more interesting than her activities twenty minutes ago? He had not particularly enjoyed watching her watch her friends model those ghastly yellow bridesmaids' gowns. Who else could he look in on? What of that wart of a gardener, Higgle? He was always good for a laugh, wasn’t he?

Jareth held the clear orb before him, concentrating on the lumpy dwarf. The crystal flared to life with the reflection of the groundskeeper and Sarah’s two other ludicrous friends—the yipping fox and that massive walking rug. No one in the circle looked happy. Jareth focused his magic further, and within a heartbeat, he could hear the conversation between the three.

“I should be the one to do it,” Hogwart said, crossing his stubby arms across his chest. “She was my friend first.”

“Sawah friend,” replied the horned beast.

“Tis true, my valiant brother—we are all dear to our future queen. However, methinks this job requires a more delicate touch. I do have a better understanding of the feminine arts than either of you.” The fox puffed out his chest.

Hoghead shook his head. “And you think you oughtta be the one to put together Sarah’s wedding to that rat Jareth?” He snorted.

Jareth grinned. So, they were arguing over who should plan the royal wedding, were they? There was infinite potential in that.

He got an idea. An awful idea. The Goblin King got a _wonderful_, awful idea. His laughter echoed off the stone walls of his throne room, sending the goblins and chickens scrambling for the exits.

Oh yes, his itch was about to get scratched.

* * *

“Well, well, well, what have we here?”

No matter how Hoggle’s love for Sarah had given him courage to defy the Goblin King, it could not completely undo centuries of conditioning. The gardener jumped at the sound of his monarch’s voice. It was never good when Jareth appeared out of thin air. And it was especially bad when he was _interested_ in your activities. Hoggle’s heart climbed into his throat.

“Uh, nothin’,” he answered the roguish king. There was a familiar look in Jareth’s eyes, a glimmer of mischief. Oh, yeah. This was going to be bad—very, very bad. _Please, don’t let it involve the Bog._

“My companions and I were deciding who should hold the honor of making the preparations for your glorious wedding, Your Majesty,” Didymus said.

Hoggle rolled his eyes. Why couldn’t the idiot keep his mouth closed?

“Really?” Jareth stroked his chin. “And the three of you think you’re qualified to give Sarah the wedding of her dreams?”

“No, no—” Hoggle said at the same time Didymus replied, “Why, yes! Never was anyone dearer to the Lady than we three.”

Jareth raised a brow.

“Except, of course, thee, Your Grace,” Didymus hastily added.

“Sawah friend.” Ludo nodded his head as if that were explanation enough.

Hoggle groaned, putting his face in his hands. The pair of them were going to get everyone bogged if they didn’t shut up.

“Well,” Jareth said, the glimmer in his eyes brightening further, “there’s no arguing with that, is there? What can I do but let you plan our wedding?”

Hoggle could have been pushed over with a pixie wing. “You…you will?”

“Hm. Yes.” Jareth paced around the three creatures. “But which of you shall have the honor?” He paused, his brow furrowing. “I’m certain you each are more than capable.”

Hoggle’s “rat alert” alarms went off. Jareth being nice? That was a setup, if there ever was one. Hoggle glanced at Didymus, hoping the fox would see through the ruse. No such luck. The dummy was beaming at Jareth. And Ludo? Well, he looked as stupid as ever.

“Why don’t we have a contest?” Jareth grinned, and it was the scariest thing Hoggle’d ever seen.

“A contest, Sire?” Didymus asked, eagerness coming off him in waves.

“Yes. You’ll need to prove your mettle,” the Goblin King said. “I’ll give you three tasks—nothing too taxing—and whoever performs the best wins. Do you agree?”

Hoggle considered making a break for it, right then. There was no way—_no_ way—these tasks would be anything but horrible. But you didn’t say no to the Goblin King when he wanted you to play his game. Nope. Nuh-uh. You muddled through and hoped you didn’t die, or worse—get dipped head first into the Bog of Eternal Stench.

Apparently, Didymus did not experience the same dread. “A contest to demonstrate my worthiness? Of course, Your Majesty! I shall vanquish every foe, conquer every mountain—”

“Yes, yes.” Jareth silenced the fox with a wave of his hand. He turned to Ludo and Hoggle. “And what of you two? Will you compete?”

“Ya,” Ludo said, bobbing his enormous head.

Hoggle gulped. “Ye—yes.”

“Wonderful.” Jareth flashed his teeth in a feral smile.

Hoggle was in for it now, right as rain. They all were.

* * *

Ludo took one look at the swarm of fairies and knew Hoggle was correct: the Goblin King was trying to kill them. Actually, Ludo had already suspected something amiss when Jareth had appeared. The great beast was not stupid, despite his propensity to speak in two-word sentences. In fact, if he had ever been tested, his IQ score would have been off the charts. He was a genius trapped in a lumbering body with a mouth built for calling rocks instead of debating the theory of relativity.

Ludo’s undoing, however, was his absolute belief in the goodness of others—even mischievous Goblin Kings. So, even though his brilliant mind told him to be wary of Jareth’s challenge, Ludo’s heart wouldn’t let him believe the crafty ruler was secretly planning their demise—which, apparently, he was.

Ludo shared a look with Hoggle that said, “We’ve had a good run, thanks for the memories.”

“Dost thou hesitate on the cusp of greatness, my brothers?” Didymus pointed his rapier forward, Ambrosius quaking beneath him. “Surely our king thinks us valiant, for he would not have us brave such a challenge!”

Ludo shook his head. He wanted to say, “No one gets past a fairy swarm and lives to tell the tale,” but what came out instead was, “Fairy bad.”

“But the Lady’s favorite flower grows yonder!” the little fox exclaimed. “If we must defeat these foul pests to obtain it, then we shall prevail!”

Hoggle snorted. “Just because that no-good rat said they’re Sarah’s favorite, don’t mean they are.”

Didymus gasped in shock. “His Majesty would not lie about this!”

“You bet he would.” Hoggle crossed his arms, glowering at the fox.

Ludo’s big brain agreed with the dwarf, but his heart wanted to go with Didymus. He looked again at the swarm which had now doubled in size, as if the little creatures sensed the impending battle.

“Thou mayest concede if that is thy wish,” Didymus said to Hoggle. “I, however, will best the tiny brutes and win the contest!”

“Hey! I never said I was giving up!” Hoggle pulled a spray canister from his belt. “I know how to deal with fairies, unlike you two louts.” He took one step forward and hesitated, turning back to Ludo and Didymus. “Well, are you just gonna stand there looking like idiots?”

Ludo shrugged. The odds of their survival were minimal to none, but there was no turning back now. “Sawah friend,” he said, which meant, “If Sarah wants a bouquet of Labyrinth roses, then who am I to deny her.”

Didymus nudged his mount. “Come on, Ambrosius. Destiny awaits!” The shaggy dog took several steps backward, whining.

“He’s got more brains than any of us,” Hoggle said under his breath.

“Ambrosius, if you do not sally forth this instant, I will never feed thee again!” Didymus spurred his mount on. The dog shook violently, but darted toward the swarm guarding the roses.

The little knight made it within a foot of his goal when the fairies pounced on him. There were so many of the creatures that not one spot of either Didymus or Ambrosius were visible. The fox’s cries were muffled beneath the tiny shrieks of his attackers.

“Gah! We’re all dead.” Hoggle shook his head, covering his eyes.

“Dead.” Ludo nodded. There was no need for translation. For once, Ludo’s big brain and clumsy mouth were in agreement. That single word was sufficient.

“Damn you, Jareth!” Hoggle let out a primal howl as he sprinted toward the melee, wielding his spray can. A group of fairies broke off from Didymus and shot toward the dwarf with blinding speed. Hoggle was a blur, spraying the creatures left and right, diminutive screams rising in the air as fairies fell. The dwarf made a valiant attempt, downing several of the enemy before being swallowed up by the unrelenting mass.

Horrified—less for himself and more for his brothers—Ludo lumbered toward the chaos. He swung his large hands in sweeping arcs, batting away the little beasts as they advanced on him.

The noise—oh, the noise!—of those terrible things! Their shrill cries assaulted Ludo’s sensitive ears, reverberated through his skull. He was at the center of what could only be described as sheer pandemonium. The sky was thick with fairies, blinding Ludo as he swung at them, picked them off his arms and torso. They kept coming, like a never-ending tide of terror.

The roses were only steps ahead, but they might as well have been leagues away. En masse, the fairies yanked on Ludo’s fur, preventing him from advancing toward the beautiful, shimmering flowers growing near the wall of the Labyrinth. He couldn’t see how his friends were fairing through the cloud of winged creatures. If he didn’t find a way to thwart his attackers, the trio would soon be lost.

Something in the corner of his eye caught his attention. There, near the rose bushes, low in the masonry was a hole burgeoning with fairies. Their den! A huge boulder balanced precariously atop the wall above it. Ludo did a quick calculation—no easy feat when one is being bombarded with vicious attackers—and determined the stone was large enough for his purposes.

He opened his mouth to summon the rock and was immediately gagged by the fairies. Fortunately, he got enough of a howl out to move the boulder. It tumbled to the ground with a booming crash, its massive height blocking the hole.

All at once, everything became still except for the collective gasps of the swarm. Ludo wasted no time. He lunged forward, grabbing two of the bushes, and pulled them out of the ground with considerable effort. Without hesitation, he turned and took off in the opposite direction.

“Run!” he yelled at his dazed companions. To his relief, they scrambled to their feet and followed, Ambrosius darting ahead of the group.

The fairies’ shock wore off only a minute later, and they flew in angry pursuit of the group running through the Labyrinth. Fortunately, after rounding a corner, Hoggle found a trapdoor—accidentally—and the group vanished before the fairies could reach them.

Later, Ludo would go back and, from a safe distance, call the boulder away from the den. For now, he was merely grateful they had all survived the encounter. Surely the next task wouldn’t be worse than battling a fairy swarm.

* * *

Never before had Didymus experienced dread until His Majesty laid the next challenge at their feet.

“You will weave a veil of silk for my Sarah,” the Goblin King announced after they survived the fairy swarm.

It seemed an innocuous enough task—one Didymus could easily best, considering his exceptional skills in the textile arts. However, when the monarch explained they were to harvest the silk themselves, from the kind worm who lived in the Labyrinth, Didymus’ confidence faltered.

“Allo,” the worm said as the three approached, his smile jovial.

No one answered his greeting, but instead exchanged guilty expressions with one another. Trepidation—a new and foreign sensation for the little knight—tightened Didymus’ chest like a vice as he looked down on the hapless creature.

“Come inside and meet the missus,” the worm offered, blissfully unaware of the fate which was about to befall him.

Didymus shared another look with his brothers-in-arms. None of them were anxious to broach the delicate reason for their visit. The fox had his doubts the request would be well-received.

Hoggle spoke up first. “Uh, we don’t have time for that.”

The worm took in the trio, his smile dipping. “S’alright,” he said, his tone guarded. “I best be getting along myself.”

“If you wouldn’t mind, kind sir,” Didymus said, his brave heart palpitating for the first time in his life, “but we require thy aid for a task beset us by His Majesty.”

The smile vanished from the creature’s face, his eyes widening as he swallowed audibly. “The king sent you?”

“Yeah,” Hoggle answered.

Didymus became keenly aware of the ominous shadows he and his brothers cast upon the worm as they edged closer.

Sir Didymus, valiant knight of the Underground, respectfully requested the following events be abridged in the histories, leaving the details of what transpired to the privacy of those who were in attendance. To summarize, after the fervent request was made, the worm admitted to being unaware of his ability to produce silk. Several experiments ensued, each more traumatic than the previous for the entire party—though more so for the worm. Eventually, the trio succeeded in harvesting enough silk for their purposes. A pact was sworn between all involved that no word of the experience would ever be uttered. It was a silence which remained unbroken until many years later when the worm wrote a tell-all book about life in the Labyrinth. It included a chapter entitled, “Innocence Lost.”

After that unsettling event, Didymus began to accept the appalling notion that the Goblin King could, in fact, be quite nefarious when it suited him.

* * *

Jareth was ingenious, if he did say so himself. (And he did.) The last twelve hours had been a veritable repository of entertainment as he witnessed the capers of his victims. His final challenge to them had been to create a gown befitting of a queen and model the entire ensemble before the king and his goblins.

To help the fools, Jareth brought in one of the more well-known Aboveground fashion gurus as a consultant. Tim Gunn thought himself having a nonsensical dream as he critiqued the contestants’ endeavors. With bewilderment, he told them to “Make it work.”

Jareth draped his leg over the arm of his throne as goblins set boards over the pit for a makeshift runway. The presentation was about to commence, and the king was anxious to see the fruit of his devious plan. Tim stood next to him, ready to help judge the final offerings. The hall was filled with the din of anticipation—and goblins in various stages of inebriation.

“Quiet!” Jareth shouted, raising his arms. The room fell silent except for a chicken, who was immediately bogged for defying the king. “Let the show begin!” He settled back into his throne.

“First, we have, uh, Ludo,” Tim announced, “with an interesting choice, to say the least. He’s quite enamored with stones.”

“Hm.” Jareth waved his hand. “Send forth the beast!”

Ludo entered the throne room and, as instructed, lumbered down the runway. The boards bowed under his massive size. He wore a frock that looked to be fabricated entirely from pebbles. Bright, multi-colored _pebbles_—not gemstones. His veil was full of random, different sized eyelets. Obviously the weaving had been difficult for his less-than-dexterous hands. And the bouquet? A rose bush. The entire thing, roots and all. Brilliant. Absolutely brilliant.

Jareth sucked the insides of his cheeks to keep from laughing. Even his clever imagination failed to conjure anything close to the hilarity before him. He pointed at the beast and spun his finger. Ludo complied, turning in a circle as the boards creaked in protest.

“Interesting,” Jareth said.

Tim nodded. “Yes. Very…earthy.”

Jareth raised a brow. “Or stony, rather.” He tapped his chin. “Though, I’m not sure Sarah could bear the weight of that frock.”

“It certainly wouldn’t fit into a taxi.”

“Indeed.” Jareth clapped his hands. “Next!”

Tim jumped at the abrupt shout. “Ah, yes,” he said, pushing his glasses up the bridge of his nose. “Next, we have the exuberant Sir Didymus, who chose a medieval theme for his presentation.”

Before Jareth could holler for the little knight, Didymus was at the threshold. Without hesitation, he crossed the room to the runway. Once on the boards, his gait took on a feminine air as he sashayed toward the king. The bodice of his dress was embroidered with a coat-of-arms—whose, Jareth didn’t know. He didn’t have one himself.

Didymus held a shield with the same design as the gown’s bodice, and the bouquet was a wreath of roses around the hilt of his sword. The veil was the only part of the ensemble befitting of a lady—with a border of intricately woven lace. At the end of the runway, Didymus performed an elegant pirouette.

“If you have time, Your Majesty,” Tim said, “I would encourage you to examine his seams. Sir Didymus’ needlework is flawless.”

“Hm.” Jareth grinned. He had no intention of examining anything. The dresses would be bogged as soon as the presentation was over. It wouldn’t do to have Sarah find them and ask questions.

“Next!” he yelled, making Tim jump again.

Didymus offered them a deep curtsey and sashayed back up the runway.

“Finally, we have Hoggle.” Tim glanced at Jareth. “After much Sturm and Drung, of the three, I think his design was truly born from his viscera.”

Hoggle peeked around the doorway before trudging into the hall, a scowl on his leathery face. The gown he wore was surprisingly exquisite—cream-colored with a cascade of bright blossoms on the single strap. The bouquet in his hand was a simple bunch of roses, stems wrapped with a thick ribbon. His veil was sheer, edged with a tiny floral pattern. Sarah would look breathtaking in the ensemble.

The effect, however, was ruined by Hoggle clomping on the runway, grumbling under his breath with each step.

“Oh, come, come now, Hogbrain!” Jareth jabbed his scepter toward the dwarf. “Put some hip into it!”

Hoggle rolled his eyes as he attempted to swivel his hips. Jareth had difficulty holding back his laughter.

“What is going on here?”

Jareth winced at the familiar voice. Sarah stood inthe doorway, her expression aghast.

“Precious, you’re home early.” He offered her a winning smile.

She glowered at him in return. “Not early enough, apparently,” she said, surveying the scene.

Tim leaned toward the king, lowering his voice. “Uh oh. Trouble in paradise, Your Majesty?”

Jareth ground his teeth. The first real fun he’d had in ages, and Sarah had to spoil it with an untimely entrance. “Your services are no longer needed.” He waved his hand, sending the fashion expert back to his bed. “In fact, you are all dismissed. Last one out will be bogged!”

Everyone scattered like a flock of startled birds. Hoggle hesitated long enough to wave at Sarah before hitching up the skirts of his gown and dashing toward the exit.

Jareth considered making his own getaway, but running would only prolong his suffering. Better to face her wrath now and get it over with.

“Jareth,” she began as she walked toward him, “why was Hoggle wearing a dress?”

“Who knows why the little scab does anything.” Jareth shrugged, keeping his posture relaxed despite the tension in his body.

“_Jareth_.” And there was that lovely I’m-pretty-sure-I’m-going-to-have-to-kill-you edge to her tone. Delightful.

Jareth sighed. This was all going to end very bloody. “He may have had the impression he was competing for the privilege of planning our wedding.”

“Competing with who, exactly?”

“Your two other friends.” Jareth pinched the bridge of his nose. Why had she come home early? He would have taken care of the evidence long before she was due to arrive—_tomorrow_.

Her eyes narrowed to slits. “And I don’t suppose you told them everything is already planned for the wedding?” She crossed her arms, drawing his attention to her shapely bosom. “Jareth?”

“Hm? Oh, right.” He cleared his throat. “That particular detail may have escaped their notice.”

Sarah’s cheeks turned a brilliant shade of red. “_JARETH LUGUBELENUS MÁEL SECHLAINN FEIDLIMID ÁEDÁN RIAGÁN VERCINGETORIX!_”

He raised his brow. That was rather impressive. She had gotten his names in the right order, and had even pronounced all of them correctly. His gratification was short lived, however, as she stalked toward him, murderous intent gleaming in her emerald eyes.

He leapt over the back of the throne and held up a hand. “Dearest, I have decided we should embrace your Aboveground custom of remaining separated until the ceremony.”

He vanished with the echo of “Get back here, you coward!” ringing in his ears.

Jareth would pay dearly for his prank later, but it had been worth it. The image of Higgle in that botanical frock alone would provide amusement for many years to come.

* * *

Tim Gunn woke the next morning, determined to swear off all future late night sushi runs. His dream had been disturbingly vivid, and utterly ridiculous.

Not long afterward, though, the fashion industry trended toward eighteenth century inspired apparel with a modern rockstar twist. No matter how unsettling Tim’s dream had been, there was no arguing with impeccable style, after all.

**~FIN~**


End file.
